TWEWY Drabbles
by WallofIllusion
Summary: As the title says, a collection of drabbles, each written with a specific word count in mind. Usually 100. Lots of spoilers.
1. Metaphor, or, Did you sleep well?

This is going to be a collection of one-shots written with a specific word limit in mind, mostly 100. Unfortunately ff.n's word count disagrees with MS Word's, so poo on them.  
Spoilers will be common. Especially for the 21st report. I'm kind of stuck on that.

* * *

Sanae woke from a dream of drowning.

He rolled onto his back, covered his eyes with his forearm, and tried to push away the desperation of clawing against relentless, pummeling waves; of trying to survive amidst chaos. This dream, this nightmare—his first in decades—had visited him nightly for three weeks now. He harbored no illusions about who had sent it to him.

Limited sometimes by words, the Composer relied on metaphor.

Some would mistake it for revenge, but Sanae knew better. It was what Shibuya had been. It was a plea for empathy.

Sanae would never acknowledge it.


	2. An Exchange

"Reapers get power from their wings… so they're normal in the Realground?"

"Yup," Hanekoma answered the Composer. The two contemplated Shibuya from atop 104. "Some of them even live semi-ordinary lives, despite being dead."

"You think I don't know what my Reapers do with their spare time?"

"Well, if you needed to ask about their—" Hanekoma was cut off by a sharp tug at his own wings. "Hey!"

"Actually, I was only wondering if Angels' wings worked similarly." Joshua admired the feather he'd just plucked and smirked at Hanekoma. "It seems they do. I think I'll be keeping this."


	3. A God WellVersed in Futility

The Composer stood ankle-deep in sewage, pointing a gun at his Producer's forehead.

Hanekoma gazed down at him. "You can't kill me with that."

"I know. That's why I'm even considering it."

"What, you just want to gravely wound me?"

"_I want remorse,_" the Composer hissed. He focused on anger to keep away the betrayal, the sinking, shrinking feeling of insufficiency.

But Hanekoma's glittering eyes understood him. As always.

"You wouldn't be satisfied with remorse stolen at gunpoint."

A pause, and then:

"What does it matter?" The Composer flung the gun aside. "You wouldn't give it to me even then!"


	4. A Moment's Judgment

An urgent beeping from his phone pulled Hanekoma out of his distraction. "Hey, Josh, what's—"

"My proxy is about to erase his partner," Joshua interrupted conversationally. "D'you think you could you do something about that?"

A disbelieving laugh shot out of Hanekoma. "About to—"

"_Quickly_, please." His voice thinned with distress.

Twenty minutes later, the two Players were asleep for the evening and Joshua appeared to Hanekoma. Hanekoma raised his eyebrows at the young man, who looked away in pouting embarrassment.

"He needs some work," he confessed.

Hanekoma gave a bark of laughter. "Understatement of the century, boss."


	5. No Damn Reason 150

"Face it, Josh, you tried to destroy your own city for no damn reason."

Suddenly, Neku was plunged into darkness. Indistinguishable voices crowded him. Each tried to outdo each other until they were shouts that swelled and pressed against all his senses at once. He couldn't breathe; he was trying to hold onto something but it kept tearing out of his grasp, eroding him.

"Stop it!" he tried to scream. "Josh!"

Just as suddenly, his senses returned to normal. He was shaking, panting, sweating. He looked at Joshua with fear, begging silently for an explanation as his voice not yet recovered.

There was a cold anger in the Composer's eyes. "Call my actions foolish, hasty, whatever. I've heard it all before, and frankly those accusations grow boring. But I fought _that_ for three months before making my decision. Do not, in your infinite ignorance, assume I had no damn reason."


	6. Family Situation

"What are you writing?"

"Suicide note," the Composer responded absently.

Hanekoma raised his eyebrows. "Isn't it a bit late for that?"

"Yes," the Composer said, "but Father won't stop crying foul play. I'll find out where he hasn't looked yet, put this there, and imprint the idea to look there. Problem solved."

"He'll believe it?"

"Oh, yes. He'll eat it right up if I blame Mother."

Stony silence.

"You don't approve."

"It's hardly my place to approve or disapprove. I'm just…"

"Surprised at my family situation?" The Composer simpered. "I certainly didn't leave much joy behind when I came here."


	7. Miscalculation

He found the rebellious Reaper licking his wounds—or rather, attempting to bandage them by himself—at the top of Pork City. Sho looked up as Sanae approached.

"You're an idiot," the Angel said. He crouched next to Sho and held out his hand for the bandage tape, which Sho relinquished.

"Boss…" Sho said. He winced as Sanae began wrapping his shoulder, not delicately. "Why didn't you warn me? He cancelled out my bullets like they were nothing."

"Because," Sanae said with gritted teeth and a roll of his eyes, "I didn't realize you were this much of an idiot."


	8. Family Situation, Part II

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

Hanekoma gave a wry chuckle. "Must be a whole lot of nothing, with a face like that. C'mon, Josh, what's up?"

"_Nothing_." But he knew he'd lose eventually, so he mumbled, "My father's moving."

"…Out of Shibuya," Hanekoma said, half-guessing, half-knowing.

"He's returning to England, to remarry Mother. It won't work out. He doesn't like Mother. Likes England, though."

"And doesn't like living in the city where his son killed himself."

"You think I need to be told that?" the Composer snapped. "I made my decision to leave them. I will accept the consequences. _Nothing's wrong_."


	9. Questions, Asked and Otherwise

"Oh, hey." Neku stopped walking suddenly. "Wasn't there something you wanted to ask Mr. H?"

Joshua didn't let his smile waver. He knew _Was there?_ would be too flippant, so he didn't bother to deny it. "Oh, right. Too bad. Some other time, perhaps." At the very least, some time when Neku wasn't around; _Did you teach Sho to sic Taboo Noise on me?_ wasn't something he could ask in front of his proxy.

"You could call him," Neku suggested.

Joshua recoiled mentally, remembering what Hanekoma had made no effort to hide. "Not now," he said. "I think he's busy."


	10. A Puppet's Silent Voice

The Composer knew he was in no danger of being shot. A puppet with its strings cut can do nothing; in the same way, Neku was ruined, broken. He was crying. He couldn't even raise his gun.

Despite Neku's passivity, though, the boy's despair clawed at the Composer. No—it threw itself at his feet, clutching his pant legs and begging for what Neku had already abandoned hope of: mercy, kindness, a way out of this situation. It was fierce; if it continued like this, the Composer would have to shut it out entirely to stop his hands from shaking.


End file.
